


Into the Abyss I Will Run

by lizandletdie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: But not quite, F/M, Fix It Fic, NOT PWP, almost dubcon, dagger porn, david the eternal wingman, i guess, porn with perhaps a bit too much plot, post-zelena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandletdie/pseuds/lizandletdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After learning of her husband's deception regarding the dagger, Belle moves out temporarily.  When neither one of them is entirely sure how to fix their marriage, it takes a little pep talk from one of Rumple's few friends and a gesture of trust to get things working again like they should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Abyss I Will Run

**Author's Note:**

> Right, well I intended for this to be dubcon femdom dagger smut and it is definitely one of those things. I did have two lovely beta readers for this story in EndangeredSlug and TessDeBelle, but there were some pretty substantial rewrites after they got their hands on it so blame me and not them for any errors in judgment or style.
> 
> This story didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted it but I sort of ran dry on ways to fix it (it is a LITTLE hard balancing Rumple possibly having PTSD issues and Belle using his dagger to control him for sexual purposes with her having hurt feelings and resentment about said dagger and I didn't really just want to handwave those issues), so if you have any questions, comments, or criticisms PLEASE let me know. I'll never get better without knowing where things went wrong in the first place.
> 
> The title comes from the song "Stricken" by Disturbed (which could really be considered its theme song)
> 
> I hate that I have to do this, but apparently I do. If you're reading this fic anywhere besides AO3, it was posted without my consent and likely profited someone else. Please consider [donating](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_donations&business=CZNGXGNP4PRX4&lc=US&item_name=The%20Mantis%20Fund&currency_code=USD&bn=PP%2dDonationsBF%3abtn_donate_SM%2egif%3aNonHosted) or swinging by my Tumblr (standbyyourmantis) to let me know what you thought!

> You come on like a bloodstained hurricane  
>  Leave me alone, let me be this time  
>  You carry on like a holy man pushing redemption  
>  I don't want to mention, the reason I know
> 
> That I am stricken and can't let you go  
>  When the heart is cold, there's no hope, and we know  
>  That I am crippled by all that you've done  
>  Into the abyss will I run

When she heard the door swing open slowly, Belle knew it was her husband without even looking, but she glanced anyway. Granny's Diner wasn't quite big enough to avoid seeing each other, and honestly there was a part of her that was happy to see him. This separation was hard on both of them, but it had been a necessary evil after she'd found out about the dagger. She supposed it would have made more sense to move into her old apartment over the library, but it had seemed too permanent a solution. The hotel felt more like a temporary measure and she desperately didn't want this to become more than that.

Even thinking about it made her stomach sink and her appetite flee. She'd not been eating well since she moved into the Bed & Breakfast, and from Rumpelstiltskin's wan look and the dark circles under his eyes when he looked her way, neither had he. Neither one of them made any move to pretend like they hadn't noticed the other, and she watched him candidly as he ordered a coffee to go. He stared at her as he paid and waited for his order to be brought out. He wanted to speak to her, she knew. Wanted to apologize and beg her to come home and promise that it would never happen again, but he wouldn't come over. She'd asked for space to think through her feelings on the matter, and that was a wish she knew that he would honor, even if he couldn't honor others – he would never push her to accept him, he had never done so. She felt fresh tears threaten to overcome her as he gave her one last longing look before walking back out the door.

She wanted to forgive him, really she did. She wanted to run out after him and kiss him and be wrapped in his arms as he promised it would never, ever happen again. But she wasn't sure she could trust his promises (he'd promised not to kill Regina and tried anyway, promised her he'd not kill Zelena either and failed to keep that one, too) and that was the thought that kept her planted firmly in her seat even as the sounds of the diner patrons returning to their conversations now that the drama between Mr. and Mrs. Gold had petered out to nothing more than awkward looks. Belle returned to studying her pancakes, her appetite having fled with her true love.

“Mind if I sit?” a familiar voice broke into her thoughts.

She looked up to see David standing next to her table, a strange look on his face.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, gesturing across the table to the unoccupied seat.

David looked at her curiously for a little while, as though trying to gather his thoughts. Belle quashed her initial instinct to make conversation. Whatever he had to say, he could say it himself in his own time, no matter how awkward the silence felt.

“So I've been thinking,” he finally said. “Thinking about the year we were in the Enchanted Forest, when Rumpelstiltskin was being held captive.”

“What about it?” Belle had suspected David would want something like this – he and Regina were the closest things to friends her husband had, and there was no way Regina would attempt to interfere in their lives.

“Well,” David was unfazed by her suspicious tone. “When we found him in the castle, in that cage...” he paused here just a moment too long, and Belle knew he hadn't been unaffected by the sight of the once powerful sorcerer trapped and insane either. “He couldn't focus, until he saw you, remember?”

She nodded softly, not trusting her voice. She remembered all too well, actually. She remembered feeling so happy he was alive, but so helpless to help him. Belle knew better than most the toll that captivity took on a soul. She'd not wish it on her worst enemy, and it had been nearly impossible to stomach on her true love.

“The first thing he said when you touched him,” David continued, “was _light_. It reminded me of something and I couldn't quite put my finger on it but then I remembered and I – I thought you should know, Belle. Why he said that.”

“Why?”

“Before the first curse,” he fidgeted in his seat, and Belle took some pity on him. They'd never had this kind of relationship, they were friendly but not friends. “When he thought you were dead, he told me something about you. I mean, I didn't know it was about you, but he said he had loved someone and that she was a – how did he put it? – a 'brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness.' I remember, because I was surprised that _the_ Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, the Spinner, the same creature who bartered for children could have a true love. Of course, I met you and then I met Lacey and then it all made perfect sense.” He chuckled a little, folding his hands on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “Look, I don't pretend to know exactly what's going on with you two, but I know that he would literally cut off one of his limbs if you asked him to. And he probably wouldn't even flinch.”

“I know that,” she said, her heart breaking for the truth in his words. “But he's still lying to me. Still twisting words around. I just need some time to think.”

“I just thought you should know the whole story,” he said with a shrug. “I get the feeling you didn't do much dealing with him back in the old world, did you?”

She shook her head in reply.

“We really just had the one deal for me to come live with him. Everything after that...” she waved her hand in a manner she recognized as having rubbed off on her from her husband.

Everything she'd needed had been provided until he cast her out. Even once she returned, he'd never bargained with her for anything. He'd given her a home and a livelihood without a thought for recompense, just needing to know she was okay no matter what happened.

“He's not the sort of man you want to be on the wrong side of in a bargain,” David finally supplied. “He has this way of getting whatever he wants regardless of what you think you're giving him.”

“Are you saying I should forgive him because he's tricky?”

“I'm saying you should maybe think about giving him another chance, because as far as I can tell he's trying very hard not to be the man he was for a few centuries because you didn't like it.”

Belle was shocked. It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask David if her husband had put him up to this, but she knew he'd never have asked for his help. Rumple tended to make fun of David's intelligence in the same way he liked to mock everyone who wasn't her. She'd never spent much time alone with the man and had sort of just assumed her husband had been correct in his assessment. Maybe she should stop listening to him when he was on a rant.

“Thank you, David,” Belle finally said.

She was surprised at how much she meant the words, really. It was nice to have this conversation, to know that someone else cared about her happiness and his. It was nice to know that someone else believed in them.

“Don't worry about it,” he said, rising from his seat and offering her a sad smile. “I know you two have been through a lot, I just thought you should know that he never forgot about you.”

She tried to smile but felt tears welling up instead. David had the good grace to pretend he hadn't noticed, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading out the door and into the street again.

Belle continued picking at her food, trying very hard to keep her gaze averted until she was finally able to plaster a semblance of control back onto her face. Screw it, she finally decided. She'd known all along she'd forgive him eventually. He was her true love, after all, losing him would hurt her just as much as it would him. She'd just wanted some time to lick her wounds, but she couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't be poor Mrs. Gold who moved into a hotel after only a few weeks of marriage.

So fine, she'd forgive him. That didn't mean he wasn't going to have to ask for it first.

 

Any other time she approached the pawn shop, she'd have stopped just a moment hoping to catch a glimpse of him unsuspecting. This time, though, Belle was afraid her courage would abandon her and she practically flung herself through the door into the shop.

Rumple seemed startled by the tinkling of the little bell over the door, and when he looked up from where he'd been standing and gazing sadly into one of the cases he practically did a double take at the sight of her.

“Belle,” he breathed her name like a prayer and she was momentarily reminded of when she had first returned to him from the asylum, no idea of who he was and only a stranger's promise that he would protect her.

He had looked at her the same way then, too. Like she were an apparition and he couldn't decide if he were happy to see her or terrified of what she might do to him. Maybe it was both, maybe it would be enough for him just to see her, regardless of what she had intended for him.

Every fiber of her being wanted to rush into his arms and say he was forgiven and that she was coming home but she didn't dare make it that easy for him. She needed him to understand that she couldn't – wouldn't – live like this anymore.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before locking the door and walking over to where he stood. He recoiled just a bit, still unsure of her intentions, but he didn't flinch when she touched her hand to his cheek. After a moment, he exhaled and turned into her palm, some of the tension she'd seen earlier falling off of him and leaving him looking smaller than he ever had.

“Do you know why I didn't want you to kill Zelena?” she finally said. She hated the shakiness of her voice, she needed strength here but she had learned to take her strength from his love.

He shook his head softly, his hair brushing against her wrist and tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“I don't know, Belle,” he said tearfully. “I don't, truly. But I need you to know that I'm so sorry I lied. I am. I just...I don't know what to do.”

“It wasn't because I didn't hate her, you know,” she held his face in her hands and rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks, tears flowing freely now from both of them. “I was there, I saw what she did to Bae. I saw what she did to _you._ I know what being in captivity feels like. Every time I thought about what you were going through with her I felt sick. Every time I saw you together...if I'd been able to, I'd have probably killed her myself.” She said the last part as casually as she could manage, afraid to admit to him or to herself how true the emotion really was. “I hated her – _hated her_ – for what she was doing to you, for what she did to you and to your son. I've never hated anyone before, not even Regina.”

“And yet you would have spared her life.”

“But not for her sake,” Belle choked on a sob that finally couldn't be contained. “I didn't want _you_ to have another dark mark on your soul. I didn't want you to have to be the one to bear that weight again. I didn't want you to have to add her death to your conscience.”

He was silent for a moment then, just looking at her as though he couldn't quite understand what she was saying.

“I had to do it, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “I promised Bae he wouldn't have died in vain, I promised to avenge him. I had to do it.”

His voice was quiet, there was no trace of pride or that awful gleeful joy he used to play the monster and she was grateful for that, at least. Grateful that he understood her reasoning if nothing else.

“I know,” she let one hand card through his hair and he seemed completely shaken by her touch after so long without. “You shouldn't have lied to me, though.”

He looked then like he might argue then that he hadn't really lied, he had merely not told her the whole truth, but seemed to think the better of it.

“I shouldn't have switched the daggers,” he finally conceded.

“If you knew you were going to kill her, why did you even give me the dagger in the first place?” she finally got to the heart of her hurt, and it felt like tearing herself apart just to form the words and to make it real. “You proposed to me in a pawn shop, there are literally sixteen rings in that case alone. You never had to offer it to me. Why would you cheapen the proposal that way?”

“It's not what I wanted, you have to believe me,” he was begging her now. “I wanted to be strong enough to be the man you wanted. I wanted to not kill her for you. But I just couldn't. She was alive and my son was dead, and I just couldn't accept that. Not after everything else.”

Belle closed her eyes and tried to understand. She understood everything except the lying, but she wanted to see how to him it had made sense.

“I'll never be the man you want, Belle,” his voice was small now, as though afraid she might actually believe him.

“You are the man I want,” she corrected, exhaustion and sadness threatening to overwhelm her. “I just want you to trust me. That's all.”

Rumpelstiltskin flinched a little at that, as though realizing for the first time the effect his actions had on her.

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching out as though he wanted to touch her before pulling back and moving around the counter to a cabinet at the wall.

He took a key out of his pocket, hands fumbling as he opened the lock and swung the door open, removing a box and coming to stand next to her. He was back at her side so fast she half believed it was magic, setting the box on the counter in front of her. He looked at that moment like nothing so much as a puppy that had fetched her a half-eaten shoe and was now eagerly awaiting her declaration that it had done a good job.

“What is it?” she said, reaching out to touch the wood of the box gently.

He started, then, as though just now realizing she had no way of knowing what was inside. He ran his hand across the lid and letting the golden glow of magic do its work. Belle usually felt something at the sight of his magic – intrigue, or excitement, or fear – but this time there was nothing, nothing except for a sad sense of emptiness as he opened the box revealing the dagger within.

“It's the real one, Belle, I swear,” he began and she just felt exhaustion threaten to overwhelm her then.

“I don't want this, Rumple.” She pushed the dagger back towards him and his face fell. “I don't want this much power over you.”

“Please,” he insisted. “I have to make this right. For us.”

She sighed, but let him press the dagger into her hand and wrap her fingers around it.

“Rumple...” she tried to protest.

He was entirely missing the point, but the look in his eyes was so raw and desperate for her understanding she didn't have it in her to keep fighting on this point.

“Now,” he took a step back once she was holding it securely. “Give me a command.”

“ _What?!”_

She resisted the urge to throw the damn thing across the room, but just barely.

“Tell me to do something,” he insisted. “Let me prove it to you. This is the real dagger, you have to let me prove it.”

“This isn't what I wanted,” she said but he was still looking at her so hopeful. Instead, she wracked her brain for something to tell him to do; she wouldn't do something to humiliate him or hurt him but he was so damn insistent she knew there was no way they could get past this until she at least tried. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how she could even be sure he wasn't just pretending to obey but the desperate look on his face prevented her from doubting him.

“I don't know,” she stalled. “Stand on one leg.”

She nearly dropped the dagger as the tingle of magic spread up her arm suddenly. It was the real dagger, at least.

“You see?” a hopeful look flashed across his face at her surprised yelp. “This is the real one, and I need you to have it.”

“Rumple,” she reached out and petted his hair. “It was never about the dagger.”

“I know,” he murmured, turning his face into her hand. “I know it wasn't. But this is all I can do to make it up to you. Please, let me.”

She realized then that he was still on one leg, waiting patiently for her to command him to lower it. Her heart broke at the sight, and she adjusted her grip on the dagger.

“You can lower your foot,” she said softly and he obeyed, exhaling a breath she hadn't quite realized he'd been holding.

He was still giving her that hopeful look and his hands were playing at his sides – a nervous habit she recognized from their early days together. He was still unsure of his reception should he reach out to her. Frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted him to or not. She missed him desperately, she'd known she would. And she was forgiving him, she knew. She'd said her piece, and she really wanted nothing more than to put this behind them. She just couldn't let him off this easily, either, could she?

“Promise me you won't lie to me again,” she said finally, the tingle of magic almost pleasant now that she knew to expect it.

His shoulders tensed, and she could tell it was on the tip of his tongue to insist he hadn't _lied_ exactly, never lied. He'd never answered her, after all. He just proposed instead. To his credit, he didn't try to argue the technicalities. He simply nodded.

“Promise me, Rumple,” she insisted, setting the dagger on the counter and watching his eyes dart to it. This she needed him to say with no coercion. “Promise me out loud – no more lying, no more manipulating the facts, no more hiding things. Promise me and I'll come home.”

Instead of answering her right away, he picked the dagger back up and set it back in her palm.

“I promise, Belle.”

The answering tingle of magic told her he was bound by the dagger now. He would be held to his promise. His fingers still twitched at his sides and she decided to take pity on him.

“You can kiss me now,” she said with a smile she couldn't quite control.

He made a low moan in his throat and leaned into her, his lips seizing hers desperately and she plastered herself against his front, her arms coming around his neck to hold him closer as his tongue slipped into her mouth. It took her a moment to register that his arms still lay at his sides. Of course, he couldn't touch her without her permission.

She pulled away a moment.

“So you can't do anything without me telling you to?” she said, still pressed against him.

He closed his eyes and nodded, his face now a strange mix of relief, hope, nervousness, and somewhere at the edge she could see a growing arousal.

“And you have to do everything I say?” She added, more to provoke him than because she needed clarification on that point.

“I am entirely at your mercy, sweetheart.” He was barely containing his excitement at the prospect.

So this was what he wanted, then? This struggle between them? To have her command him? Fine, if he wanted a lover to enforce her will over him then who was she to argue?

“So what should I do to you now that I have you in my clutches?” she asked idly, hopping up onto the counter and playing with his tie.

“Anything you want, dearest.”

“Anything?” She bit her lip, leaning up to press her lips to his pulse point before sucking gently on his neck.

He made a sound low in his throat as though he wanted to toss her back on the counter and have his way with her but couldn't. Not that she would make him suffer, of course, but if anyone was going to have their way with anyone today, well...he had offered this freely. She had tried to reject, but if this is what he wanted then she was more than happy to oblige him.

“Anything,” he gasped as her teeth met the sensitive flesh of his neck hard enough to be felt but not to hurt.

“Touch me,” she murmured into his neck, the tingle of magic as his hands snaked out to grab her waist becoming a welcome reminder of what he was giving her.

“You can move your hands.” She added once it became clear she would need to be incredibly literal.

His hands began trailing up and down from her hips to her breasts, and she gasped as he moved to cup her breasts.

“Yes, just like that,” she hissed, leaning back and tossing her hair a little. “Keep going.”

Her command was punctuated by the strange tingle from the dagger, which she was rapidly beginning to find arousing. She kicked her shoes off and rubbed one foot from his knee to his hip encouragingly. She'd stop, she told herself, at the first sign of resistance from him. But their sex life had always had an aspect of power play in it and the tenting of his trousers told her that, if anything, he was enjoying this more than she was.

He pressed his palms against her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until they pebbled under his touch. Belle sighed and gave into the sensation as he rolled them gingerly between his fingers, watching her face intently. It was the devoted look on his face more than his actions that spurred her onwards.

“Take off my tights?” She said it like a question but the tingle that preceded his obedience gave lie to that.

He immediately slid his hands to her knees, dragging them up to her hips and finding the waist of her tights before pulling them down and tossing them over his shoulder with a wicked grin.

“Anything for my lady,” he growled, his hands not leaving her thighs.

She found herself more turned on by that than she had anticipated, and decided to indulge this surprising new interest.

“On your knees,” she said, pulling her skirt up and her panties down, tossing them in the general direction of her tights.

Rumple dropped to his knees faster than a man in his mid-three hundreds had any right to, his hands still on her legs sliding down to her calves and ankles. She was more grateful now that his limp had been healed than she ever had been, knowing she'd not have been able to do this in good conscience otherwise.

“Gods, Belle,” he moaned, closing his eyes and resting his cheek against her knee.

“I want you to make me come,” she said as firmly as she could with the tingle of the dagger's magic trailing up her arm. “I want you to use your mouth and hands.”

He shivered then, and she could tell he was further gone than she was. It was a strange sort of power she had now, he was totally at her mercy but he had placed himself there willingly. She hadn't wanted this control over him, but now that she had it she found herself aroused by the power of his trust. She wouldn't harm him, wouldn't do anything to cause him pain or grief, or take advantage of his faith in her, but the idea that she had it in her capacity to do what she would with _him_ – not with his power but with his body – made her delirious with arousal.

He sat for a moment as though waiting for a word from her before beginning, and she seized his hair and tilted his head up to look into her face for a moment. He was so perfect like this, waiting on her command for his every movement. She was taken with a sudden tenderness, leaning down awkwardly to kiss his forehead. Rumple sighed as she leaned back up, taking every bit of affection she was willing to give him as an affirmation that yes she still loved him, still wanted him, would never hurt him. But he wanted this, too. He wanted this woman who could control him, exert dominance over him, she realized. It was why his initial instinct had been to offer her the dagger (before he switched for the fake) because he wanted to be _hers_ in every way.

“You can start,” she finally said, leaning back and hooking her leg over his shoulder before her thoughts could guide her into darker places. “You can do whatever you want in order to perform the task I gave you.”

He groaned as though she was killing him, but she knew that noise – he always sounded like that when she said something he found erotic, like the first time they had made love when she insisted that if he was going to put anything inside of her she was going to touch it first or when she had first stumbled onto the idea of a blow job in a romance novel picked up at the drug store. She felt her face flush at the memories as her husband began his slow perusal of her lower body.

Later, they would need to reevaluate the boundaries of this relationship if they decided to make a regular feature of this. She would need to know where he would draw the line before she pushed him too hard, as she wasn't sure a safe word would work with the dagger powers in effect. As it was, today she would stick to things she knew he liked and luckily for her, cunnilingus was one of his very favorite ways to spend an evening.

She felt the scrape of stubble against her inner thigh, a particular fetish of hers that she'd not shared with him yet. He planted kisses along the insides of her thighs, his breath ghosting hot and wet over her before fingers began gently probing into her. She hadn't realized how aroused she had been until she felt how easily he slipped inside of her, two fingers moving in and out, spreading her wetness up to her clit. He rubbed her gently at first, teasing her before pinching her between the flats of his fingers and rolling it just a bit. Belle cried out, leaning back on the countertop and wondering why she'd never thought to have him eat her out on this damn cabinet before if he was going to be that inspired by the whole process.

When Rumple finally put his mouth on her, he practically devoured her with teeth, tongue, and lips all working on her favorite places. His fingers seemed to be everywhere, on her and inside of her and curling – oh _gods_ the curling – and thrusting as his clever spinner's fingers somehow managed to reach into her and find all the right places to touch.

“Yes,” she moaned, wanting to encourage him and let him know he was pleasing her and that he was forgiven. “Yes, just like that.”

It was a delicate balance, to control him and demand of him and not trigger his memories of captivity and abuse. Her instincts told her that calling him a _good boy_ like she wanted to would remind him of things he'd rather forget, but he needed to hear that she was pleased as well. She tried to keep the tone of her voice light and loving for fear that were she to push him harder he would suddenly be elsewhere with a woman who wasn't her. Belle, at least, had experience with being held captive. She understood this instinct he had to seek her comfort in this way, to feel needed and alive, and she understood the need to reclaim those parts of himself that had been lost. She would be gentle with him, but she would push him as well.

She held him closer with her leg around his shoulder, pinning him in place as though he had a choice to pull away, and he groaned in relief at her enthusiasm for his efforts to please her. He attacked her clit with a renewed enthusiasm, suddenly hitting her just the right way to make her see stars as she cried out as an orgasm overwhelmed her. He kept touching her through the waves of pleasure, letting her cool off before removing his mouth and fingers and leaning back to look at her expectantly. He was waiting for his next command.

It took Belle a moment to catch her breath again, having been completely lost to the pleasure. When she finally came back to herself, she looked down at him, so hopeful and loving, and her heart melted. She combed fingers through his hair, grabbing it and using it to guide him back to his feet so she could kiss him deeply. The taste of herself on his lips and in his mouth reminding her of his dedication to her and the wetness still pooled between her thighs. She knew what she would next ask of him.

“Take me to bed,” she murmured into his hair, wrapping her legs tight around him and draping her arms over his shoulders. “The one in the back room, I mean.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Before Belle knew it, he was standing next to the bed in the back, his hands supporting her ass as she remained clinging to him. He must have used magic, but she'd barely noticed, too intent on the taste of her on his lips and how much she'd missed this.

She unwrapped herself from him, her feet hitting the floor gently. She stepped back and examined him thoroughly, mentally preparing for this next step.

“Take your clothes off,” she looked up at him and stepped away, the tingle of magic a welcome reminder as he shed jacket, tie, and waistcoat before she had the presence of mind to stop his eagerness. “Slower.”

He paused, hands on the buttons of his shirt, but he nodded and continued removing his clothes at a more relaxed pace as she watched him lazily. She dropped down to the bed to better enjoy this show she'd arranged for herself, her thumb caressing the hilt of the dagger lazily. It took her a moment to realize that while her eyes were on him, his were on her hand as she toyed with his dagger.

Once he was standing naked in front of her, she decided to ask a question she'd always wondered.

“Can you feel that?” she asked, stroking the hilt with both hands now.

“No,” he shook his head and shuddered anyway. “I can feel when it changes hands, but not when you touch it. It's just damn erotic, Belle.”

“Oh,” she said, unsure if she was disappointed or not but still enjoying his reaction to her. “Touch yourself.”

She felt the answering magic telling her she was about to be obeyed before she saw his hand travel down to his cock to take himself in hand.

“Pleasure yourself,” she demanded. “But don't come yet.”

He growled as he began to pump his hand up and down along his length. She'd never seen him do this from eye level before, and she found herself enraptured by the look of foreskin traveling up and down to cover the head and the way the it glistened with precum as she watched. Belle reached out and cupped his balls gently, loving the feral look he gave her as though were he able to he would throw her down on the bed and have his way with her until neither could walk. She reminded herself to ask for that some other time, but instead leaned down and pressed the flat of her tongue to the head of his cock experimentally. He shuddered but didn't come as she pressed her lips to it and gave it a quick suck before pulling back, his hips following her as she left. He was getting desperate for her, and she liked it.

Maybe she was still angry at him, she realized. She so rarely allowed herself to become upset or lose herself like this. She'd swallowed thirty years of captivity and torment and only brought herself to even snap at Regina once, she'd let Zelena take from her the family and love she'd hoped for, Rumple had tossed her out to Regina's machinations on the flimsiest of evidence and she'd only fought harder for him. She'd been victimized time and again, and every time it came back to the day he'd bargained for her to come with him. She didn't regret it, she didn't – she wouldn't and she couldn't, dammit. She just felt all the pain surfacing, all the hurt and confusion and she was swimming in it suddenly. She had to ground herself again, she couldn't let this overwhelm her.

“Stop,” she demanded and he whined but obeyed. “Now take off my clothes.”

He nodded, leaning down to try to figure out the closures on her dress, his arousal making his hands shake and robbing him of some of his mental abilities as well. She smiled and guided his hands to the zipper and he seemed grateful, dropping to the bed next to her and working with quick hands to shed her of her dress and bra.

“That looks uncomfortable,” she said, rubbing a finger down his cock which was so red with arousal it was nearly purple. She was less upset by his discomfort than she thought she should be, which unnerved her but also gave her a strange sense of clarity as well.

“It...it is,” he ground out, keening towards her. “But it feels good, too.”

“Lay down,” she commanded and he agreed quicker than necessary, obviously hopeful that she would take pity now. “Now, new game. I'm going to ride you and you're going to get me off again. After that...we'll see what happens now, won't we? Don't come until I tell you to.”

He nodded, arching his back with a hiss as she slipped over him, lowering herself down his length until he was buried completely inside of her. The noise he let out was barely human and intensely arousing. She should feel guilty about this, about tormenting him so. But he seemed to be enjoying himself, enjoying this new side of her he'd not seen. If she could want his dark side, couldn't he want hers?

She took his right hand and guided it between her legs to find her clit and he renewed his earlier attentions as she began to move up and down against him, grinding her hips into his before moving back up until he was practically out of her and sliding down again. To his credit, he never lost the rhythm he had set with his hand as she rode him hard. It wasn't long before she felt herself rising up to another orgasm, starting in her belly and moving down to her extremities. She didn't even try to be quiet like she usually did, screaming and calling his name in a way she knew drove him absolutely mad as she tightened around him with pleasure.

By the time she came back to herself, she examined him carefully. He was still embedded deep within her, twitching and desperate for release. His eyes were closed tight and his face was screwed up with the strain of not coming yet.

“Rumple,” she cooed, petting his head softly. “Rumple, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open and she felt a tug in her heart at how desperate he looked at her. He was hers, she knew. He'd always be hers regardless of the damned dagger, or how badly he kept trying to fuck things up, he would always belong to her and she to him. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her heart swelling and chasing whatever anger remained out. She honestly wasn't even sure who she had still been angry at by that point, all the hurt that had ever been inflicted on her finally found focus and all the times she'd been helpless had found power. This wasn't who she wanted to be, especially with him.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said sweetly. “Hard and fast, and as soon as you're ready you can come.”

She'd barely gotten the last word out before she was on her back, her husband thrusting into her at a hard, merciless pace that completely overwhelmed her with the feel of him. One hand supported his weight, while the other slid up her arm to grasp the wrist holding the dagger and keep it in place. She found herself driven inexorably to another orgasm even as he began to shiver and shake above her, his erratic thrusts driving her to one last climax as he buried himself deep within her and grunted his satisfaction against her neck.

“Gods, Belle,” he breathed into her hair before collapsing next to her on the bed.

She dropped the dagger on the floor, curling her body around his tightly.

“I don't want it, Rumple,” she insisted. “I want you to have it back.”

She wasn't afraid of the power anymore, but she was a little afraid of the beast in her that had been released by having it.

“Belle,” he whispered into his hair, his voice heavy with apologies and regret. “I'm not a good man, not near what you deserve. This is the only way I have to guarantee I never fail you. Can't you see that?”

She pondered this awhile, until the cool air finally drove the pair under a blanket.

“I'll make you a deal,” she finally said, smiling in spite of herself at the way he perked up at the word _deal_. “I'll come home today, all I want in return is for you to keep the dagger and to promise that the next time you think I've asked too much or you can't do something, just tell me. I love you, Rumple. I want to help you if you'd just let me.”

“It's a deal,” he said softly after thinking for a moment.

“Oh and one more thing,” she said coyly, tracing patterns on his chest with idle fingers. “We need to discuss boundaries before that” – she pointed back at the discarded dagger on the floor – “comes back into the bedroom.”

“Liked it, did you?” he said with a chuckle and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“Yes,” she conceded, burrowing tighter into his chest. “But I don't really know what it did to me to have that power. I was just so angry, and I wanted to hurt you and I know you liked it, but...”

He silenced her with a soft kiss to the lips.

“I did like it,” he shushed her. “And I wasn't afraid of you.”

“I was a little afraid of me,” she sighed. “It was strange, I knew what I was doing and I was able to be careful but there was this little voice all the time wanting to push harder. I just need to know where to make myself stop.”

“Alright,” he whispered into her hair. “If you're that worried, we can lock the dagger up someplace where you can still hold it.”

“Thank you,” she fixed him with a smile before pressing lips to his bare chest. “I wouldn't mind doing that again sometime though, with some rules in place.”

She said the last bit shyly, looking up at him coyly and feeling a flood of relief at the grin that overcame him then.

“Who would have thought that of the two of us, my little wife would be the one with the secret dark side?”

“And if you tell anyone, they'd never believe you.”

“Why would I tell anyone?” he said, rolling over top of her again and pressing a hard kiss to her lips before moving down to her neck. “I fully intend to keep this part of you all to myself.”

 


End file.
